


Tank!

by 3cheers12years



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Diners, Cowboy Bebop - Freeform, F/M, Flirting, Heavy reference to bebop, If you havent seen it and dont get it im sorry, Not Beta Read, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Dan, Starbomb (Game Grumps), Waitress!Reader, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3cheers12years/pseuds/3cheers12years
Summary: It's late. You feel like it's too late to keep serving coffee but thats what diners like this are for. 24 hour caffeine kicks. You can understand it for those working late shifts or drivers, people who need that boost to get through their last couple hours or stop them from falling asleep at the wheel, but this guy? This guy confuses you.-3... 2... 1... Let's jam!





	Tank!

"Refill, sugar?" 

"Please."

His voice is just as worn as he looks. One hand is locked in his hair, grip firm, pulling the unruly strands away from his face, the other holding a pen firmly, dancing it in spirals around the page, just away from the paper as if casting a spell to spark his creativity.

It's late. You feel like it's too late to keep serving coffee but thats what diners like this are for. 24 hour caffeine kicks. You can understand it for those working late shifts or drivers, people who need that boost to get through their last couple hours or stop them from falling asleep at the wheel, but this guy? This guy confuses you.

He's in here often, early in the night til early in the morning. He buys a coffee and a muffin and tips well (probably to make up for the amount of free refills he takes), and he always looks stressed.

Tonight is the worst you've ever seen him look. As you pour the coffee into his mug you cast your eyes over him. The bags under his eyes look dark and heavy, his eyelids are droopy and his shoulders slumped. His face looks thinner than usual and almost sallow. You stop pouring and walk quietly back to behind the counter. You can feel his eyes follow your steps.

Honestly, you wonder if he's okay. You've become fond of his weary smile and gentle voice. You like your regulars, whether they're chatty or quiet doesn't matter, you just find yourself growing affectionate of the familiar faces.

You find yourself bringing him a glass of ice water, placing it gently on the table away from his copious notes and stationary. He glances up at you, brow furrowed, letting his hair fall from his hand. He looks around the diner to see he's the only customer.

"I didn't-" he starts. You give him a warm smile.

"I know." You shove your hands into the pockets of your washed out blue apron and take a step back from his booth.

"Oh. Thank you."

You both glance at the clock and he sighs, leaning back and stretching, popping his shoulders. You find a table to clean and watch out of the corner of your eye as he takes a sip of the glass you'd given him. He seems to perk up a tiny bit as though his body had realised how much he really needed the refreshing cool and hydration. It makes your chest sparkle on the inside.

It's been an hour. He seems brighter in his skin but duller in his personality. His head is resting on the table and he's sliding around a tiny paper boat he's made. You're pretty sure he's starting to lose it.

"Uhm, sir?" You ask softly, ever so gently touching your finger tips to his shoulder, "Sir, are you okay?"

He lifts his head painfully slowly. Some of his curls stick down to his face and others stick up wildly. There's pretty much a straight line on the side of his head that was on the table. It's sort of impressive, really.

"I- yeah. I'm fine." He replies. He has to clear his throat to get his voice, but it's deep and ridden with tiredness. 

You look at him sympathetically, "Are you sure?"

He nods. You twist your ring around your finger, "may I sit with you?"

He nods once again and you slide into the seat opposite him. He straightens himself, rubbing his face and collecting his belongings in a little closer. You introduce yourself to him and he smiles at you sleepily, warmly.

"It's nice to put a name to a face. I'm Dan."

You fold your arms on the table in front of you, "Dan. It suits you. I always refer to you as Spike."

His eyebrow does it's very best to quirk, "...Spike?"

You nod, "Yeah. Have you seen Cowboy Bebop?" His eyes light up and it encourages you to keep going, "Like Spike Spiegel. You're very similar to him. Calm, cool, collected. Tall, long limbs, sharp face... Lots of hair..."

"Well... Thank you," he stutters, clearly unsure of how to appropriately respond.

You shrug, "you just remind me of him, that's all."

He rubs the bags under his eyes and blinks hard a few times. You instantly rush to ask if he'd like another glass of water or a coffee. He laughs low in his throat and shakes his head.

"No thank you. You've done a lot for me already tonight,"

"It's my job," you insist.

His eyes, though exhausted, give you a look that you can only read as a _stop that_.

You fidget with your fingers, your eyes skittering across the paper laid out in front of him.

"Uhm, if you don't mind me asking-... What have you been doing?" You gesture lightly toward the notepad and the side of his mouth pulls.

He sighs, "Writing. Working."

"Working?"

He nods, "I'm a musician. Im trying to get lyrics down but I just-..."

"Aren't songs supposed to come from the heart?"

He laughs and pushes his hair back, making you flush brightly and feel a little small after your simple statement.

"Sometimes, yes. But when youre writing about- for example- Mario and Luigi fighting for Princess Peach's affection..."

You nod slowly, "you do have a point."

He sighs again, looking at the mess surrounding him, "I suppose I've been in Luigi's position myself. Maybe I should channel that."

You reach for the pad, "may I?"

He hands it to you, long fingers scrabbling around the flimsy cardboard before turning it around to offer to you.

You scan the page and hum, eyes squinting and eyebrow quirking occasionally. He watches you intently, chewing on the nail of his right index finger as he does so.

"Seems to me you've met more Faye's than you have Julia's." You mutter quietly.

"That obvious, huh?"

You glance up at him and smile slowly and he returns it, giggling quietly before slumping back and letting his hand drop into his lap.

"I think you need to take a break. You've been in here a lot, and as much as I enjoy watching you scratch and scribble away, I think you've burnt out,"

He prickles slightly, shoulder's stiffening ever so and his jaw setting, "What makes you say that?"

You pick up his little paper boat and hold it up, elbow in the middle of the table. It's his turn to feel sheepish.

"You noticed that?"

"Yeah. I also noticed the little voices you were giving the little pirate's aboard it, but we won't talk about that."

He casts his gaze at the table, face heating up and his shoulders relaxing. You place the boat in his eyeline and stand.

"I'm going to go back to doing my job. The ball is in your court, Mister."

He murmurs a thank you, still staring at his boat. You clean idly behind the counter, fetching yourself a fresh glass of water. When you return, Dan is stood at the till waiting for you, a tired smile plastered across his face.

"Bill, please?"

"Of course," you ring him up, "have you decided what you're gonna do?"

He nods, hair bouncing with him, "yeah. Im gonna catch up on sleep, get a massage and then play a butt-tonne of Mario so I can crank out this song."

You smile at him, wide, taking his money from his hand, "Good for you!"

He drops extra change into your tip jar, "thank you, sweetheart. I needed your help tonight."

You shrug, "hate to see a guy down on his luck."

He hums in his throat and nods, taking a step back, slowly creeping his way to the door.

"Would you say you're more of a Faye or a Julia?" He asks, turning back to look at you. He's walking backwards out of the building.

You laugh at him and roll your eyes, "See you, space cowboy."

"See you space cowgirl, someday, somewhere."

**Author's Note:**

> Title is Tank! which is the Cowboy Bebop theme - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDpm4ItLzlA. It's a jam.
> 
> I fucking love cowboy bebop man spike is my husband.
> 
> Characters belong to themselves, all a work of fiction.


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